A wise one said “You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t take the Texas out of the girl.” Never has that been more true than this past week as I watched from afar while Hurricane Harvey took its toll on the state, city, and people I love. Houston was my home for the first 18 years of my life, and it’s hard to imagine the place we visited on vacation just 2 weeks ago is unrecognizable.

Photo cred: Patrick Mallare

I’ve “gone dark” online because nothing I could say would adequately convey the waves of anxiety, fear, and love that have taken over each day. How my family’s homes were spared in the midst of all the destruction, I will never know. But I am forever grateful.

Houston has shown us the best of humanity and I want share my gratitude. Thank you to…

The first responders and the Texas National Guard who have been working around the clock rescuing people trapped in their homes.

The families of those first responders and Guard members who sit at home worried for their safety as they do this important work.

The good people of Houston who, without any rescue training, got out there and saved lives.

My friends and family who kept me updated on Facebook/called/emailed/texted throughout the horrifying experience, and who made sure my people were safe.

Everyone who shared addresses of people who needed help, and those who went out there to save them.

The animal lovers who’ve been saving and caring for the pets left stranded.

Everyone who has made a donation to help Harvey victims.

Houston, you make me so proud. My heart is full and I can’t wait to come home again. There’s no denying this girl has been “taken” out of Texas (thanks a lot, Dave)—but rest assured, the Texas will never be taken out of the girl. Y’all are my people. Sending so much love…

Remember when I used to sit up at night writing memories in a baby book for my children to cherish forever and pass down to their children and their children’s children? Yeah, me neither.

Lucky for kids these days, we have the internet. When I started writing a list of all the things I love about Lorik in commemoration of his birthday, a Word doc on my computer or a text convo with Dave didn’t seem quite celebratory enough. So I’m sharing it here.

I love the way Lorik…

Grabs a blanket and sits on the couch and says “get cozy”

Has very specific views on utensils and changes them multiple times each meal (think grilled cheese sandwich with a fork)

Says “NEE-night” when he’s ready to go to sleep and “chair” if he wants to be rocked first

Dances (ok, gallops) whenever he hears music dance party

Says “Come on Baby” every time a certain Ed Sheeran song comes on

Runs fearlessly into the pool no matter how many times he ends up under water

Never gives up when I tell him he can’t have something, yet instead of throwing a massive tantrum says “wheh ee e go?” aka “where did it go?”

Won’t leave the house without “Nana” or “EE-ya” EVER and constantly checks on them if they’re not in sight

You know when kids have that exciting breakthrough in reading? They’re no longer struggling to sound out works, but instead announce every word they see loudly to the world- so confident and proud. This is Zana right now.

“Barber shop!”

And a few minutes later, “do not enter!”

As we were leaving her sister’s Capitol Hill soccer game this past weekend she couldn’t wait to yell out the two words spray painted on the electrical box: “F*ck Gil!”

Shocked silence from everyone including me.

“SHHHHH,” I said just as loudly as she had screamed “f*ck!”

“What?” She was confused.

I told her it wasn’t a nice word and that she shouldn’t say it ever again.

Zana: what does it mean?

Me: don’t worry about that. All you need to know is not to say it.

Zana (whispering): ohhh you’re going to tell me when we get to the car?

Me: no, you just need to not say it

Zana (no longer whispering): I’m just going to keep saying “f*ck” until you tell me what it means!

Typical Zana. The same kid who wasn’t satisfied with my answer to how babies come out (“between your legs”) and grilled me on how a human could come out of a “peepee hole.”

You just never know how far the conversation will have to go with that one.

So I gave the best on-the-fly answer I could come up with: “It’s a not-nice word for sex.” (*please don’t ask me what that means*)

And she didn’t.

F*cking Gil and those f*cking kids he ticked off. Now can we please get this cleaned up before next Saturday so other parents don’t have to explain f*cking profanities to their kids??

You know that book, “All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten?” Well, all Lorik (age 1) really needs to know he learned from Tyra. When my friend at KidFriendlyDC told me she was looking for a baby model for a Sneekis DC-themed onesie… it felt like graduation day.

Lorik has been preparing for this moment his whole life—watching Top Model before he was even born. Picture a pregnant lady, too nauseous and lazy to leave the couch, shoveling Ben & Jerry’s and practicing the “smize” and the “booty-touch” with each spoonful. I swear Lorik would give me an elbow in the gut every time Tyra told a contestant they were no longer in the running.

But back to the point… Lorik was ready. We put on the long-sleeved onesie and headed outside in the 90+ degree heat for a photo shoot. Like Tyra says… it’s a model’s job to be professional. Nobody asks a model if they’re hot or cold. Uncomfortable, tired, hungry? Not important.

I put him outside on our front stoop and tried to get him to stand up so we could see that super-cute DC onesie.

But since we weren’t trying to model Target-brand size 4 diapers (as seen clearly in the photo above), we had to keep trying. This time, Dave was behind the lens. And Lorik turned into Naomi Campbell, wanting no part of any of this anymore.

Then my neighbor walked outside. She couldn’t see the baby from where she was standing and thought Dave and I were taking pictures of each other. You know… as lovers do.

As if.

But thank goodness for my neighbor because she somehow got my moody model to stand up and W-E-R-K.

Check it out…

He totally nailed it! Don’t you suddenly want to rock a onesie? Are bodysuits back in? Because I want one!

PS- Sneekis does make grown up clothes, too. Just not grown-up onesies. But that DC flag with beer or coffee incorporated in the design? Gold!

Once Lorik’s work was done, we rewarded him by letting him eat lunch. I don’t know why he was so cranky… a model should know we can’t have any rolls in these photos. He only had to lose 10 pounds for the shoot. What’s the big deal?

Today is a big day—11 years married to the Marine I met in Jacksonville, North Carolina. Who would’ve thought that the guy who didn’t even want to dance with me would be my husband and baby daddy all these years later?

I remember the night we met at Sywanyks Nightclub, a bar covered in Marine paraphernalia that I never noticed thanks to one too many Red Bull and vodkas. My friend pointed at Dave from across the bar and remarked on how cute he was. “You should go talk to him!” I told her. “No, YOU should go talk to him,” she said. Never one to turn down a challenge, I marched my tipsy self over to the table where he was playing Jenga and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, do you want to dance?” I asked.

He looked at me like I had interrupted open heart surgery.

“Maybe later,” he said and turned right back around.

“Ok! I’ll be right over there whenever you’re ready.” Can you spell loser?

I kept slamming down cocktails and suddenly someone tapped me on my shoulder.

“You ready for that dance?”

Under normal circumstances, I would have said “hell no,” but Pour Some Sugar on Me was playing and you really can’t dance to that alone.

We danced. And danced… to Rob Base’s It Takes Two, Nelly’s Hot in Herre, and (of course) J-Lo’s Love Don’t Cost a Thing.

He bought me a drink and I pretended to sip it, then said I needed to use the ladies room where I poured it down the toilet because I had already had one too many but wanted to keep talking to him.

The club was closing and my friend and I needed a ride home. Somehow, I wound up wearing a French beret and snuggling with Dave in the trunk of an SUV. When we got to my friend’s house I turned to Dave and gave him an almost-kiss (as in I turned my head at the last minute and gave him a hug instead), and went inside to sleep it off.

The next day I got a voicemail from the Marine at the bar. And then he called again. And again. I couldn’t remember what he even looked like. What if he wasn’t even cute?!

On the fourth call, I answered. We talked for hours. We went on a date that week and have been inseparable (for better or worse) ever since.

I try to “maybe later” him back all the time. Playing it cool. Pretending I don’t notice how lucky I am. But anniversaries make me sentimental. Time moves too fast and I can’t believe we’re here all these years later. Is our marriage good? Is it bad? Is it easy? Is it hard? Will we be doing this for another 11 years? Yes. Every day, yes.

To the man who:

Serenades the baby to sleep with his guitar

Takes hours putting the girls to bed because he loves reading to them

Loves fabulous food, but also doesn’t mind eating cold soup out of a can

Thinks real men don’t own more than one pair of shoes

Jams out to Better Than Ezra and Beethoven

Will never stop trying to teach me how to read a map

Never thinks our crazy life is crazy enough and always wants MORE kids